Saturday, October 31, 2009

The Dionysian Experience

This is an essay I wrote during the Classical Mythology class my senior year of college. It does have some flaws, but I am quite satisfied with how well it turned out. As I made a commitment to put it up sometime this month, and there are only several more hours left in October, it should be put here tonight.

Professor Bradbury, who taught the class, provided us with a very rich array of essay topics. I chose this one, partially because I decided I needed to meditate on Dionysos, but also because I was swamped with work beforehand. Writing about it inspired this post in 2008.

* * *

In Euripides’s Bacchae, Dionysos offers a clear choice to Thebes: the city may either accept his divinity or face the wrath of the god. While one clearly sees that the majority of Thebes denies Dionysos’s divinity, it remains for us to analyze precisely what accepting this deity means and whether or not the forces this god presides over can be easily controlled by mortals. I argue that to accept Dionysos, one must accept both the freedom of the individual and the transcendence of self—an inherent paradox. Mortals cannot control the gifts from this god because self-transcendence requires sacrificing one’s ego and, therefore, one’s control over situations. We will analyze the Bacchae’s chorus to see what they have accepted with the deity, followed by exploring the fire imagery associated with the god and the freedom associated with accepting Dionysos.

The chorus provides a unique lens for scrutinizing what Dionysos offers humanity because the chorus exists primarily outside the action. Unlike Agave, Pentheus, or even Teiresias, the chorus does not have motivation beyond glorifying the god Dionysos. Through their hymns of praise, we begin to see what the deity promises his worshipers in return for their devotion: “Blessèd is he who hallows his life in the worship of god, / he whom the spirit of god possesseth, who is one / with those who belong to the holy body of god” (
Bacchae, 72-4). Here we see that Dionysos possesses even those who accept him, and that this possession becomes a blessing when voluntary. (However, this has a darker side: “possession” was used against Thebes when Dionysos possessed their women, giving them no choice but to follow him.) The transition in this passage from mysteries of god, worship of god, dance of god, body of god, wand of god, to the final cry of “[b]lessèd, blessèd are they: Dionysos is their god!” (Bacchae, 70-82) The effect is twofold: at the beginning, the language of our translation separates the god from his worshipers. They use and do things that belong to god, and the primary emphasis rests on what these individuals must do to gain his praise. However, the ending statement brings the god into the realm of mortals—he belongs to those who surrender to him. This means that humans have causal control over the dynamics of their relationship with Dionysos once they have surrendered themselves to him. Dionysos acts as an intermediary between these fortunate ones, their senses, and the real world. In short, one must relinquish one’s own control over the self and situations, transcending pride and the ego, to achieve freedom through Dionysos.

A second set of phrases spoken by the chorus has quite similar language in our translation to the section of the play discussed above. They differ in that they begin to resemble maxims, giving more precise advice about behavior outside of cultic acts:

Blessèd is he who escapes a storm at sea,
who comes home to his harbor.
Blessèd is he who emerges from under affliction.
In various ways one man outraces another in the
race for wealth and power.
Ten thousand men possess ten thousand hopes.
A few bear fruit in happiness; the others go awry.
But he who garners day by day the good of life,
he is happiest. Blessèd is he. (Bacchae, 902-11)

The affliction refers to Pentheus’s refusal to give Dionysos the respect that a deity deserves, slighting the god. While one can certainly understand that a ruler may not want his city to honor a deity whom he knows nothing about, Dionysos has already proven his divinity to Pentheus’s blind eyes. Dionysos, who has chosen to embark on mystic religion, desires also to make his mysteries universal: “Did the god declare / that just the young or just the old should dance? / No, he desires his honor from all mankind. / He wants no one excluded from his worship” (Bacchae, 206-9). The chorus’s phrasing indicates that it views Pentheus’s denial of Dionysos’s divinity as a denial of the self, or a refusal of the god’s hospitality.

To understand more completely what Dionysos, the god who presides over wine and ecstasy, gives to his worshipers, we must understand an additional dimension. In some sections of the play, Euripides refers to wine as a drink that makes mortals forget their afflictions, describing it similarly to the waters of Lethe that in the underworld (Buxton, 208-9). Dionysos’s gift to humanity, according to Teiresias, follows this mode: “For fulfilled with that good gift, / suffering mankind forgets its grief; from it / comes sleep; with it oblivion of the troubles / of the day. There is no other medicine / for misery” (Bacchae, 279-83). When we compare this to statements from the Dionysian/Orphic mysteries that warn people not to drink from the river Lethe, but from Mnemosyne after they have died, the link between wine and the “oblivion of troubles” indicates that Dionysos privileges a psychological respite from suffering in the mortal world (Graf, 5). Teiresias also views the deity as an intermediary god, which Euripides also emphasizes through the intense interaction with mortals.

However, what Dionysian worshipers accept from the god does not submit to mortal control easily. We have already seen how the “blessèd” statements show that one must relinquish power to gain the benefits of a relationship with Dionysos—it requires a transcendence of the self. To explore this uncontrollable aspect of the Dionysian experience further, we can examine the imagery associated with the god—in particular, those sections in which Euripides links the god to fire. The description of Dionysos’s first birth reveals that Semele “bore him once / in labor bitter; lightning-struck, / forced by fire that flared from Zeus” (Bacchae, 88-90). The child, born of light, was midwifed by the divine fire that incinerated his mother. Pentheus also connects Dionysian worship to the uncontrollable aspect of fire, saying “[l]ike a blazing fire / this Bacchic violence spreads” (Bacchae, 777-8).

Fire links Dionysos to Prometheus, the Titan who gave fire to humanity in a fennel stalk (Works and Days, 25). If fire can represent the power of civilization, then Dionysos’s power arose concurrently with civilization because the creation of wine, while it does relax inhibitions, is a civilized, deliberate action. Unlike Prometheus, who takes humanity’s side, Dionysos does not refrain from punishing individual human beings and cities in pursuit of his divine regency—and he does not refrain from using fire as a tool to accomplish his desires. In this play, he punishes Thebes because it has dishonored him and forsaken his divinity, and the god will induce Pentheus to set fire to his own home. The god uses fire as a weapon elsewhere: when the chorus describes him, they say that “[f]lames float out from his trailing wand / as he runs, as he dances, / kindling the stragglers, / spurring with cries, / and his long curls stream to the wind!” (Bacchae, 144-150). The uncontrollability is shown in the way Dionysos carries the fire and in the way he carries himself—the god with the unbound hair invites a relaxation of inhibition.

The benefits of worship that the chorus praises, in requiring the individual to relinquish control to the deity, become curses when the individual does not respect Dionysos’s power. Those who defy god invite the darker side of his passions, so the god retains control of the relationship. Pentheus believes that he retains control in the play, whereas the god manipulates even Pentheus’s perceptions. The altered state of consciousness that willing (and unwilling) Dionysian worshipers find themselves in defies human control because Dionysos exists parallel to, yet not within, civilization. Those active Bacchantes of Dionysos find themselves liberated when bound by civilization’s laws, symbolized in the tragedy by the prison guards’ inability to keep the Bacchantes imprisoned: “The chains on their legs snapped apart / by themselves. Untouched by any human hand, / the doors swung wide, opening of their own accord” (Bacchae, 447-9). According to Dionysos’s will, they leave their prison—the miracle of the god uses them as ammunition in the destruction of Pentheus.

Dionysos directly controls the Bacchantes when he prompts them to take vengeance on Pentheus, who witnesses their rites as an outsider to the god’s mysteries. When the Bacchantes “[know] his cry / the clear command of god,” the messenger who went with Pentheus and Dionysos to the Bacchantes says that the worshipers’ feet are “maddened / by the breath of god” (Bacchae, 1088-94). The gifts and miracles that Dionysos had given them turn on the individual who defies god. Transcendence of the individual makes them all behave as a collective, and the Dionysian power overwhelms their senses enough to supplant the traditional ties between a mother and her child, forcing Agave to do in the fit of Dionysian frenzy to do what no sensible Greek woman could have done.

To conclude, those who accept the god Dionysos receive some measure of protection from the deity, providing that they follow the god’s customs and honor him in the appropriate way. An individual’s acceptance of Dionysos does not necessarily mean that she can control what the god gives her, as the nature of wine and the primal, ecstatic experience sometimes venture outside the bounds of conventional society. Like fire, the god Dionysos requires that an individual approach him with caution and respect to prevent ruin.




Bibliography

Euripides. The Bacchae. Euripides V.
Ed. David Grene and Richmond Lattimore. New York: Washington Square Press, 1968.
Hesiod.
Works of Hesiod and the Homeric Hymns. Trans. Daryl Hine. Chicago: University of Chiago Press, 2005.
Buxton, Richard.
Complete World of Greek Mythology. New York: Thames & Hudson, 2004.
Graf, Fritz, and Sarah Iles Johnston. Ritual Texts for the Afterlife: Orpheus and the Bacchic Gold Tablets
. New York: Routeledge, 2007.

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Monday, October 26, 2009

Current Offerings and Religious Observances: A Brief Look

Currently, I have several routine offerings going on. The first ten days of the lunar month brings the cyclical offerings to Selene, the Agathos Daemon, Athene, Hermes, Eros, Aphrodite, Herakles, Artemis, Apollon, and Poseidon.

I also worship Apollon every weekend (Saturday/Sunday) during the Kyklos Apollon ritual, which is a great regular ritual. Hermes receives offerings on days I work in thanks for helping me find employment; I bought a huge box of chrysanthemum incense for this very purpose, and I have about two weeks left of these offerings. At some point, I need to find myrrh incense so I can offer Rhea two sticks (because I prayed to her as well near the end of my unemployment).

This weekend will also be busy. I will make a khoe (a drink libation that leaves nothing for the worshipper --- you don't share libations with the dead) to my ancestors, especially my maternal grandfather, who passed away this past January. I will also make offerings to the Chthonic Gods (Hades, Hermes Psychopompos, Persephone, etc.) in honor of the holiday.

Pompaia begins Tuesday evening and runs until sunset on Wednesday. I will make an offering to Zeus on Wednesday, probably a libation.

For libations and other rituals, I either just make the offering or follow a loose version of something posted at sponde.us.

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Thursday, October 22, 2009

When Offerings Don't Happen



One small confession: offerings to the Gods don't actually happen precisely when they should in my household, especially now that the morning light is actually morning darkness. Winter exhausts me.

Incense takes about 40 minutes to burn, and I prefer to perform morning offerings after I shower and dress. Sometimes I wake up with enough time. Sometimes, I don't. As a day rolls on, the likelihood of an offering decreases. I try to remain mindful of when these offerings need to take place because it helps me budget time. Offerings motivate me to stumble zombie-like downstairs as my excited cat tries to trip me.

I don't leave incense burning when it has more than four or five centimeters left (I have a large offering bowl) because I am worried about it falling or the cat upsetting it, and I try to make sure it is completely finished before I rush to the bus stop. Ritual devotions, which encompass both the lunar month's holy days and my personal offering schedule, frequently, but not always, happen beforehand. Depending on how long I work, I may not get back home before the Hellenic day ends at sunset.

Sometimes, as with votive offerings, I resolve the issue by making an extra offering the following morning. With temporally-sensitive offerings (offerings tied to specific days of the lunar month), I don't make offerings the following day and instead try to do something else --- keep aspects of the Gods in my mind on their sacred days, change my behavior in honor of them. Altering a habit, even temporarily, is often more difficult than striking a match and reciting hymns for ten minutes.

Does it bother me that I sometimes fail to carve out special time for the Gods in my schedule? Yes. Devotional time relaxes me. I enjoy lighting candles, burning incense, and making libation as much as (I hope) the Gods enjoy receiving them. Lacking the time to make offerings also means that I have failed on another sensitive topic --- keeping myself productive.

However, I think I once nearly missed the Kyklos Apollon ritual due to a fresh burst of creative writing, so perhaps keeping myself on task isn't the issue.

How do you deal with working ritual and devotion into your life?

Image credit: stock.xchng.

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Friday, October 16, 2009

Some Rough Responses to THE GOD DELUSION

I am reading The God Delusion out of obligation, as one of my mother’s love interests found out that I am a theist and thus gave me the book. While I believe in accepting gifts from others so as not to insult them, I am as much put off by someone giving me a book Witnessing for atheism as I am receiving a book that attempts to prompt a conversion to Christianity, Islam, or Mormonism. Richard Dawkins, whom I personally think is a bit of an ass due to what I have heard about him (and a bizarre mental connection of unknown origin that points to Ayn Rand), makes some very good points about religion. However, he also makes some assumptions about religion that I feel do not actually apply to my faith.

Keep in mind that my notes here are rough. I am only on the second chapter of The God Delusion, but I have enough to say at this point that I find it necessary to comment. Much of this comes from my point of view as a Hellenist, and some comes from an a posteriori philosophy that I have developed in response to prevailing thoughts in science, religion, and everything in between.

Dawkins equates monotheism and polytheism, thinking that using the term “God” as a placeholder for all of them (while devoting most examples to Christianity, the religion he is most familiar with) is a simple way of refuting all. The time he does devote to polytheism is spent discussing its primitivism, something that shows that he is way too influenced by anti-polytheistic Christian propaganda.

The argument Dawkins makes against theism—that one must necessarily believe in a supernatural god who created the universe—doesn’t necessarily work in a polytheistic context, as our mythological texts are inspired by the divine, not dictated by it. They take place in “mythological time,” a place where anything can happen. Hesiod attributes no god as creator of the universe. He begins with Chaos forming and proceeds from there. The relationships the poets create among the gods serves more to explain their relationship to one another than to actually explain a literal family tree. Some myths clarify divine relationships or principles. Some are ways of thinking about cyclical natural events.

I believe in the existence of the Gods. Whether the Gods are really just ideal Forms, mathematical expressions, the Laws of Physics/Nature, or impressive spiritual beings really doesn’t matter, because in the end it still means that we are anthropomorphizing something inhuman in order to symbolically conceptualize it. (Of course, I say this as someone who hasn't committed to any specific Hellenic philosophical tradition.) As Sallustius says, the rituals we perform for them don’t actually benefit the Gods (although the Homeric idea of a deity delighting in the smell of the sacrifice is a pleasing poetic image), but ourselves. Ritual action is universal across all societies and religions. It provides us a framework for looking at the world. Personally, performing a ritual fills me with a sense of gratitude towards the Gods and the universe. It makes me feel connected to a concrete past, and it gives me a sense of real physical community. Unverified personal gnosis could pose a problem depending on what the Gods actually are, but I’m more concerned about whether or not it has a net positive impact (i.e., change of destructive to construtive behavior).

Hellenic Polytheism encompasses such a wide variety of philosophical beliefs that ritual is our primary unifying factor. Stoicism, Cynicism, Neo-Pythagoreanism, Neoplatonism, Orphicism, and other philosophical schools all differ on things—the nature of the soul, the afterlife, the Gods—but all still fall under the same religion. While the debates can get heated, accusing someone of not being a “Real Hellenist” because s/he practices different philosophy is dishonest and, in most cases, wrong, and polytheistic philosophy thrives on dissent and variety. Assuming that everyone believes that the Gods are a specific something only shows a lack of sensitivity to these differing opinions, but it’s an easy mistake to make for someone not conditioned to think from a certain worldview.

Monotheistic faiths, by contrast, believe that there is One True Way. Heresy occurs when one deviates from the accepted ways of thinking about their “One True God.” Au contraire, the Gods of Hellenic Polytheism delight (if one can say that a God is capable of such an emotion) in having worshipers who will actually think for themselves, write their society’s own frakkin’ laws, and govern themselves without needing a cosmic babysitter. The Maxims of Delphi advise us to pray for things that are possible because, unlike Jareth from Labyrinth, the Gods will probably not re-order time, turn the world upside-down, and do it all for us.

Christianity makes blanket assumptions about uniting the Gentiles and Jews under a new religion that will encompass everyone (because the Gentiles were obviously just waiting around for Yahweh to admit them to his super secret happy paradise club—go read Paul’s epistles if you want some serious lols). New Atheism makes the blanket assumption that Christianity is the de facto placeholder for all forms of religious cosmology, and its philosophy seems to me like a reaction to Abrahamic beliefs. I find this somewhat amusing.

To Dawkins’ credit, I do think he reasons through many arguments quite well, and he has illuminated several topics that I previously found obscure. I really enjoy the reference to pantheism as “sexed-up atheism,” although as a Hellenist I don’t quite see why he separates pantheism (which I would consider a philosophical position) from religion—one could quite easily be a Hellenic Polytheist who believes in pantheism as long as s/he performed rituals and adhered to a Hellenic ethical framework. Perhaps pantheism would work less in a secondary religious framework.

Of course, these opinions may change. If I am motivated to provide more commentary on how I read this as a polytheist, I will as soon as I finish it—hopefully soon, as I have barred myself from acquiring new books until I complete the ones that have waited patiently on my shelf for months, and I want to sink my teeth into Iamblichus.

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Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Brief Thoughts on Cultural Destruction

We have an obligation to the Muses, who preside over history, poetry, epics, science, and many other forms of human knowledge, to refrain from base destruction of cultural relics. Polytheists, Christians, Muslims, and others have all destroyed sacred artifacts and all forms of literature housed in sacred and secular places.

I was moved to speak not because it's Banned Books Week (um ... that was two weeks ago) or Cultural Genocide Awareness Month (I wish), but because I picked up A Universal History of the Destruction of Books by Fernando Báez from the library. Parts of it are somewhat dry, but in it Fernando Báez discusses the reasons why people destroy books and why such destruction continues to present a real problem to the preservation and continuation of diverse types of human knowledge.

Reading the book made me more anti-war than I already am. I support intervention in genocides to protect those harmed by the psychotic and powerful, and I support assisting countries in determining their own destinies. A Universal History of the Destruction of Books gave me a concrete way of articulating my objections to invasion and violence.

As a child, I remember learning about World War II and thinking that the Nazis and Allies would never have bombed libraries or museums because they both would have understood what a terrible crime against history the destruction of cultural artifacts is.

The world doesn't work that way. Libraries and museums are destroyed. The people who initiate wars may do so on purpose to humiliate the defending nation or people, or they may do so because destroying the past and the written word makes appropriating the conquered so much easier. Still more nations are so indifferent to the cultural centers that the soldiers do not protect them from looters.

I think that many Hellenic Polytheists can relate to the destruction of knowledge and culture that accompanies a warlike attitude. This warfare extends to ideology, such as the pressure Christianity placed on non-Christians to convert during the past seventeen hundred years and the devaluation placed on people who believe polytheism works. It is the pressure currently being applied to those who practice traditional Sanatana Dharma, Shinto, and other primary religions.

Think about it. Sacred statues broken. Books conflicting with official Christian doctrine destroyed. Prominent polytheists murdered in cold blood. Our intellectual heritage --- Plato, Aristotle, Iamblichus, and others --- Christianized or encouraged to be forgotten. Conversion and missionary work are forms of warfare that destroys or perverts everything it touches.

Is one culture really so superior that all others must be forgotten? Shouldn't we speak out louder against a continuation of hatred? Shouldn't we condemn ideologies that perpetuate the destruction of others' gods, artifacts, books, and ideas?

Those who advocate for cultures that have been victimized by forms of cultural genocide have an obligation to speak out against current things that degrade people. You may disagree with me, but this is why I support the Kalashi fight against those who want them to convert to Islam. This is why I support Native American tribes' fight for their spirituality in the face of plastic shamans.

War, no matter how carefully we may do it, destroys just as many positive as negative cultural traits, and it frequently allows the more negative traits more organic expression. Diplomacy is the slow blade that can penetrate the shield. This is why, in most cases, at least, I prefer to leave Ares bound at the city gate and rely on Hermes's quick wit.

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Monday, October 5, 2009

AGORA: December 18, 2009

Agora now has a bigger, better trailer:



Enjoy.

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Saturday, October 3, 2009

Giant Rocks and God-PWNing

When I was a little girl, my parents did not read to me from Aesop. My mother, who cares deeply about Native American rights, read me Native stories*. They were from an amalgamation of tribes, and a lot of the stories were somewhat more frightening than Nightmare Before Christmas, which my mom never let me watch because it was “too scary.” I mean, in one of the stories, a hunter and his seven dogs are out and the dogs volunteer to die to save the master from a monster during a huge suspenseful chase. That is thriller-quality material.

But that's not the one I want to talk about. I want to talk about Coyote, Iktomi, and the Rock. (OH MY GOD IT'S A GIANT ROCK!) I promise that mentioning this story has something to do with Hellenic Polytheism, but for now, let's go through the Pillars of Herakles, cross the Atlantic, and make our way to Lakota Territory.

Coyote and Iktomi are walking around, and they walk by this rock called Iya. Coyote is like, "HOLY CRAP GIANT ROCK! O_O I MUST MAKE AN OFFERING." He gives Iya the blanket around his shoulders for the cold winds because it's a rather nice day out.


Unfortunately, the weather decides to pull an England as they're walking on. Clouds. Rain. Dreariness. People in long black coats running into Tube stations. And then the weather decides which specific English month it wants to imitate and starts chucking hail everywhere.

Iktomi has a blanket. He's right as rain. Coyote, though, is miserable, cold, and wet. Coyote says, "Hey, I want my blanket back from the impressive giant rock, which shouldn't care because it's just a rock and rocks don't actually need things like blankets."

Iktomi and Coyote walk back to the rock. (There's this brief thing about Iktomi and Iya, but you can read the full story --- or a version of it --- here. I'm just providing an abridged version.) Coyote decides he wants the blanket.

"Dude, Iya, give me the freaking blanket."

"Dude, Coyote, like, no. You freaking gave me this rad blanket, and I likes me some blanket action."

Coyote takes the blanket back anyway.

So Iktomi and Coyote start walking again, and all of a sudden they hear the weirdest noise ever. Do you remember the movie Labyrinth with the giant beast who can summon huge boulders that totally PWN the goblins so the main character can get her baby brother back from David Bowie in tights? Yeah. You guessed it. The rock is rolling down behind them.

Iktomi, at this point, goes, "Lolnoway. Imma gonna, like, get lost." Iktomi now turns into a spider and gets the hell out of the rock's way.

Coyote runs from the rock. The rock runs over Coyote enough that Coyote gets flattened like a pancake, and the rock grabs the blanket. And then this hunter comes along and decides to use Coyote as a floor rug.



Pretend now that the Iya is an Olympian God with several temples. If Coyote offers the blanket at one, it belongs to Iya.

We have records --- Julian's famous "Oration upon the Mother of the Gods" among them --- that prove sacred objects were transferred between temples. The location doesn't matter in these stories as much as the sanctity of the object and its status as an image or a divine offering.

So long as something we give remains in a place where it can be valued as a sacred object --- an online temenos, a household shrine, or perhaps a blog --- it doesn't matter much where it is, or how many times it moves from one location to the other. It must be placed, however, somewhere sacred to the Gods after its voyage through the in-between.

Coyote may move his blanket to another temple if something happens to Temple A that makes it unsuitable for his blanket. Removing the blanket from a sacred space permanently and reusing it as a common household item --- think of everything that happens on and beneath common blankets! --- is bad form. If not resulting in smashed Coyote, it would most likely bring some amount of ill fortune from his impiety.

The story of Coyote, Iktomi, and Iya the Rock came into my head suddenly as I pondered why something made me so uncomfortable earlier this week. I believe that the moral of that childhood story hidden in memory was powerful enough to influence my reaction. (Luckily, my mother was available to answer my question when I asked about "that one Native American myth in which someone takes something and gets PWNed.")

While I thought primarily about things others had done (correction: could possibly do) at first, I realized that I am somewhat guilty of not placing a divine offering someplace sacred. I suppose that means I am impious by my own definition.

The first semester of my senior year, I took a class called Classical Mythology from Scott Bradbury** and wrote an essay on Dionysos. I wrote that primarily as a congenial offering to Dionysos, and I received a 96/100 on the essay. (That's the best I have done on an essay outside of French class.) It might be time to post it here on KALLISTI so others can also enjoy the offering. I want to go over the writing first, but it should be posted sometime later this month, unless any readers think it would be better to post something on the day of a Dionysian festival.

As a last note, I have always wanted to say "God-PWN." (ThankyouHermesyouareawesome<3.)

* I read my own Greek mythology, and my first book of myths is now bound with duct tape. Also, I was in love with Urania when I was a toddler.

** Scott Bradbury confused me. I am pretty sure he is either an atheist or a monotheist, because I know that most Classicists are. However, he also spoke energetically about the numinous qualities of Delphi before quickly changing the subject. That. Was. Just. Weird. I would tip the scales in favor of atheism, though, because we compared myths to the Bible in that class. I don't think that a monotheist would necessarily be comfortable with that. Also, from what I have seen of his scholarship, he doesn't have an explicit monotheistic slant.

Image credit: stock.xchng.

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About Me

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Kayleigh
A) Annyikha is a royal refugee from the vicinity of Betelgeuse. Many say that she is a collective hallucination, but an independent third party indicates that she is a recent Smith graduate. (Obviously, the exiled Betelgeusian Bradghsol Empire likes to keep people guessing.)

B) Annyikha is a young woman with a BA in English. She practices Hellenic Polytheism, paying special attention to Apollon Musagetes, Hermes Logios, Athene Sophia, and Mnemosyne. Annyikha is definitely a geek, and she writes poetry, prose, constructed languages, and science fantasy.
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